Twist of the Knife: 99th Hunger Games
by Imagination Knight
Summary: The Hunger Games are here again. Another twenty-four kids are going to be sent to their deaths. Only one can come out alive. It is this Gamemaker's last year, and he wants to go out with a bang, and he has the perfect idea to do just that.
1. Reputation: Jasmine's Heart Reaping

**This was originally going to be a SOYT story, but then I realized that I enjoy creating characters too much. It is one of my favorite things about writing. 24 characters though, that is a bit much so I'm going to stick with only four. Though as the story progresses I might follow other tributes, as sort of practice for when I actually do write a SOYT, which I will do if this goes well. You, my readers, can help me decide if to follow later on. Just PM or leave in your review who you wish for me to follow, it will be done in a first come first serve basis. At most i am planning on folowing 12. I'm not going to be doing any sponsoring. Sorry I already have a good story line worked out.**

**Oh, I have forgotten to introduce you to the tributes. Well they are: ****Jasmine "Jazz" Heart**** (District 1, age 18), ****Roxanne Chamber**** (District 8, age 16), ****Alastair Holiday**** (District 10, age 15), and ****Dante Fletcher**** (District 11, age 16). The 99****th**** Hunger Games have begun, may the odds ever in your favor. **

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><p><strong>Just because this is their story doesn't mean that any of them will survive.<strong>

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><p><strong>Chapter One<strong>

**Reputation  
><strong>

**Jasmine "Jazz" Heart POV**

"Jasmine, can we at least about it?" begged my recent ex, Steel Knife.

"What there's to talk about?" I asked chucking a javelin at a dummy about thirty feet away impaling it in the head. "You slept with that slut, Precious, again." I launched another one this time driving it into where the dummy's crotch was.

Steel winced at that, and slowly moved his hands to protect his own. Finding his courage, or stupidity, he said, "I know what I did was wrong. I was stupid to let her talk me into doing it. I made a mistake."

I whipped around, the tip of the javelin cutting his cheek. "A mistake, you think that you made a mistake? A mistake is when you do it once, if that. You how ever went far beyond a 'mistake.'" Tears were starting to form in my icy blue eyes. "You have been seeing her for over a month."

I turned back to the dummy, the inanimate one, and flung the last javelin. It grazed its shoulder and continued on until it hit the wall behind it. I stormed over to the target and removed the projectiles from it, and found the one that hit the wall had shattered. I let out a short list of curses.

"You better hope if your name is picked that someone volunteers, otherwise you'll be the first person I kill," I told him. "Now get out of here."

I stood there and listened to him leave. When the gate to the backyard closed behind I drove the remaining weapons into the dirt.

"Jazz, are you okay?" asked a small voice.

I turned around to see that it was my cousin Wesley, five years old. I quickly wiped the tears from my eyes and walked over to the porch, where he was. I sat down on the edge so I was about level with him.

"I will be okay." I assured. "My boyfriend did something really stupid, so I broke up with him," I ruffled his hay colored hair playfully.

He pushed my hand away, and pressed his hair down. "Are you going to forgive him?"

"No. What he did was really mean, and it really hurt me. You know that it takes a lot to hurt me. Does that help you understand how bad it was?"

He nodded, and wrapped his small arms around my neck. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine.

"Hey, is your mom here?"

Letting go of my neck he said urgently, "Yeah, she's in the kitchen. She wanted me to come and get you. Come on," he said pulling me by the arm.

I followed him into the kitchen. As soon as I saw my aunt, Marigold, I came to attention, with my shoulders held back, head slightly tilted up, and arms to my side. Marigold was my trainer. She had never been in the Games, but she trained to be a career since she was seven and up until she was too old to be in the Games. After that she made a career training careers. Whenever she came over she made me stand at attention till she said otherwise.

"At ease," she barked.

I set her feet shoulder length apart, and kept her head tilted up. Marigold studied me, trying to find any signs of where I have slacking, there wasn't.

I let a small smirk cross my face. She loved to point out my flaws, but today was the day, Reaping day. I made sure that I was in perfect condition.

Less military-like she said, "Okay, you can relax."

I did.

"I still think you are still too tall," she complained.

I did stand at 6'4", taller than most other girls or even guys at my age. My height did make me a bit intimidating, which was good in the Games, but not for getting sponsors. I just hope that I can win them over in my interview.

"Okay the Reaping is going to start soon," she reminded me. "So we need to get ready. Go take a shower quickly, but don't wash your hair. I've set up an appointment for you at the salon already.'

"'Kay."

I ran up the stairs, stripped quickly, and hopped in the shower. Now alone I allowed myself to break down, a little. I still couldn't believe that he cheated on me. We had been together for over two years. I let myself cry about it for a moment, but I couldn't let myself grief about it. I had to stay strong from now until the end of the Games.

Marigold told me from the beginning, "Treat each second as if you are being watched by your sponsors. If you slip you lose them. They are your life line in there."

After my second to myself I scrubbed my body quickly. It took me less than ten minutes to finish. I wrapped a towel around me and crossed the hall to my room. There was a beautiful white dress on my bed with a silver sash around the waist, and a pair of silver sandals beside it.

I changed into it as fast as I could, knowing my aunt hates to wait. I nearly tripped going down the stairs. I found her already at the front door. She stood there tapping her foot impatiently. I gave her a sheepish smile.

We got into her car and headed to town. I turned on the radio, and on every station they were talking about the Reaping today. They were talking about well-known careers, me being one of them, and what the odds of them actually being picked were. It continued on to say if they did make it to the Games what were there odds of winning.

+"Now let's talk about Jasmine Heart. She is the niece of trainer Marigold Uptown. That there has to give her a major advantage. She has unlimited access to her fountain of knowledge."+

-"I'm not sure about that Calvin. The last four of her students that went to the Games died in the first three days. Her student count has dropped by over fifty percent since the last one died. They are saying that the Games have surpassed her."-

Marigold turned the radio off. Her face was twisted into a scold. We drove the rest of the way to the salon in silence. My aunt was still in a bad mood when we got to the salon, though she was trying to hide it.

When we walked through the door we were greeted by the receptionist and was told Rebecca, my regular stylist, was about ready. We sat patiently, or at least I did. My aunt paced up and down the length of the room. She would reach one end of the room stop tap her for several seconds then cross the room again.

I could see Rebecca working on a girl. She was busy curling the last bit of her hair. She finished in the same way she usually did, with a couple of short claps. I had always found her ending ceremony amusing.

"Perfect. Hope everything goes well at the Reaping today."

My jaw dropped a little when I see who was in the chair, Precious Pengrass. I don't know why I'm so surprise. This is a pretty popular salon. It just irked me to know she comes here after I figured out she had been sleeping with my ex.

She stopped in front of me on her way out. "Oh, hello, how are you and your boyfriend?" she asked. She had an eternal bedroom voice, like everything she said was supposed to be something seductive.

"Ex," I corrected.

"Oh, what happened?" she asked with obvious fake shock.

"You know you little slut," I snapped.

"Oh, you mean that. I'm sorry that it took you so long to figure it out. It's not like I tried to make it a big secret," she taunted. "I thought you had to observant to survive in the Games. I guess you'll be coming back in coffin."

I glared at her, trying to seem unfazed by her. She did have a point, if I couldn't see a tramp stealing my boyfriend how was I going to see a trap in the arena. The scenario played through my head. I finally turned my face away from her in defeat.

A moment later I heard Precious give a small squeak of pain. I looked back up and saw my aunt with an iron grip on Precious's shoulder.

Marigold's fingers were digging into her soft flesh._ "That's definitely going to leave a bruise," _I thought happily.

"Hello Precious," my aunt greeted brightly. "How are you this wonderful Reaping day?"

She tried to shy away from my aunt, though was unable to. "Oh, fine," she whined, dropping her seductive tone.

"This is your last year, are you going to volunteer this year?"

"Oh, no, I don't feel like someone else would be better suited to represent District 1," she explained.

"Who do you think _would_?" she asked squeezing harder.

"Jazz!" she yelped. "Jazz would do a wonderful job

"I should be getting to the square for the Reaping," finding an excuse to leave.

My aunt let go her. Finger marks were clear on her pale flesh. She dashed out of there as fast as she could, almost tripping over her stiletto heels.

"Don't let her, or your opponents, get in your head," she warned.

At that time Rebecca called me back to her station. I, the same as, skipped over to her.

"Well, isn't someone in a good mood," she noticed, raising an eyebrow at me.

"My day started off rough," I admitted, "but it just got a little better."

"Well what was wrong suga'? You know I'm always here to listen."

She had a motherly quality to her. It could have had to do with her large dark eyes that always looked to be full of concern. It didn't take long for me to spill. She listened as she cut.

"Girl, if I knew that when she was in my chair, I would have cut a huge bald spot in the back of her head," she threatened. "Let see how many boys that floozy could get afterwards."

I smiled at the idea of her walking around with a big patch of hair missing. "Thanks."

"Alright you're all done," she announced with a couple of claps of her hands.

My long sandy colored hair had been cut so that it ended at my shoulders. Short hair looks were supposes to be popular this year at the Capital, so that might help me get some more sponsors. Also short hair doesn't get caught in tree branches as much.

After we were done there my aunt drove me to town square, or as close as she could. It being District 1 everyone got there as soon as they could to try to get the perfect spot, either to watch or to volunteer. I had fight my way to the front of the eighteen year old section. Literally I had to fight.

Once I secured a spot I fixed myself back up. I had to make sure that I looked my best especially now that I was here. It would have hurt my chances at getting a sponsor, considering the angle my aunt and I agreed upon.

**Kingston Baxter POV**

Eyed my fabulous district, they all had these charming smiling faces. This was only my third year escorting this district, but I could see the little monsters that lie beneath the surface. I loved to see how they change the moment they enter the Games. Their masks always fell away and showed their true-bloodthirsty-selves to the rest.

Some of that blood thirst had already been displayed. It was amusing to see them fight among one another just for a better spot to volunteer. Lambs fighting to be the ceremonial slaughter, how morbidly entertaining. No they weren't lambs but wolves in sheep clothing.

I knew that the fight to volunteers wasn't going to be as large as in past years. Only those who were eighteen years would volunteer, maybe a few others overly hungry monsters. The rest would leash their beasts for a later time. For the Quarter Quell were coming up.

The mayor had just finished his usual speech about the Hunger Games and Dark Days and all the delightful things like that. He flinched slightly as we cross paths. My lips twitched into a small smile.

"Hello my children," I hissed. It's not that I disliked them; it was just how my voice always sounds. "Happy Hunger Gamesss," I drew long pauses between each word. "May the oddsss be ever in your favor?"

I could almost feel the fear that was emanation from them, especially from the younger ones. It was sweet to me like candy is to a child. I inhaled deeply relishing their fear. I couldn't help but to give them a large smile that revealed my fanged teeth. "Ladiesss firssst."

I plunged my hand deep into the bowl, and swirled the names around. After I let the anticipation build to its peak I ripped a slip of paper.

"Preciousss Pengrassss."

**Jasmine "Jazz" Heart POV**

I felt my jaw drop slightly. Precious was reaped. I couldn't think of a way that day could have been better. The girl that made my life an absolute hell was just picked to be sent to the Games. There's no way that she could have survived.

Even though she had to have known that someone would volunteer, she looked absolutely terrified. Tears stained her face. The crowd booed for acting in such a disgraceful manner.

She knew that she wouldn't come back if she went. She didn't have the mindset like a career. She didn't think that she was going to make it back because she thought she was better than everyone else. She knew she was flawed. That she was merely human, and not a _perfect warrior_ likes the rest of us.

Some of the people around me conspired to just let her go on to her death. They said that she was a disgrace to the district and that she deserved to die. Others said that if they did let her go it would be a bigger disgrace to the district. Me I didn't care about the reputation of the district, but rather the reputation of my family.

**Kingston Baxter POV**

"_Now she is truly a sheep. A frightened little lamb to slaughter,"_ I thought to myself. _"Don't fret dear lamb. I'm sure that another one of your wolves will be brave enough to take your place."_

"Doesss anyone volunteer."

At first no one moved. I thought they decided that she was better off dead. I was heading toward the gentlemen's bowl when I caught movement out of the corner of my eye. Slowly but surely the chaos broke out.

As soon as one began for the stage, it was like the flood gates had been opened. The girls fought and struggled against one another for their place up on stage. I couldn't help but to let my fanged teeth show, completely delicious.

One girl especially caught my eye. She floated over the chaos like it was nothing. To the untrained eye it looked like she didn't fight her way to the stage at all, but I saw. A stomp of the toe was disguised as a graceful leap over brawling figures. An elbow was seen as her weaving between fighters.

She looked like an angle among a group of devils. It must be all part of her strategy for the sponsors. She was executing it perfectly.

Once on stage she dropped down into a curtsied. "I volunteer, sir."

"Madam Pengrasssss you are disssmissssed," I informed her.

She couldn't seem to get off the stage fast enough. She stumbled twice before she even reached the stairs and fell face first upon reaching them. Such a sad creature, she was.

I turned my attention back to the volunteer. Even in her curtsy she wasn't too much shorter than I was. "Ssso, what isss your name?"

"Jasmine Heart," she informed me, standing back up.

I took off my top hat, revealing my sanguine slicked back hair, and bowed slightly. "It'sss an honor." I could see goose bumps rise on her arms.

I went back toward the gentlemen's bowl. "Now who will be the lucky young man?" I didn't bother with the dramatics with theirs. I pulled out and slip and announced, "Lee Heat."

A short little fifteen year old boy stepped up, well marched up. Buzz cut hair style, emotionless face, and cold eyes: he looked like a mini peacekeeper. If he was taller it wouldn't have been so odd looking.

"Any volunteers?" I ask already knowing the answer.

There wasn't any hesitation this time. The 'gentlemen' stormed the stage. Fists flew, blood flew, and bodies flew. I had to force myself not to laugh at the sight. It was like watching the blood bath for the Games, only a little less deadly. Eventually one of them did make it up to the stage.

"I volunt…" he began, but a huge hand covered his mouth.

A second hand grabbed him by the back of his shirt and threw him off the stage. "Get off my damn stage!" he roared. "I am Hector Trench, or you could just call me the victor," he boasted.

"_Charming,"_ I thought. _"Well he has confidence. Let's see how far that can get him."_

There I was a shepherd dwarfed by of his own 'sheep.' They were both quite tall. Besides that they were yin and yang. I couldn't wait to see them go at one another. Hector with his strength and Jasmine with her elegance, it would prove to be a battle for remembering.

**Alright that's all for now. The others tributes Reapings** **should be posted fairly soon. I have most of them already written up. It's just a matter of finishing and cleaning. So don't expect me to update as frequently as the first ****chapters. I hope you enjoyed it. Second one should be up in a couple of days. Like I said earlier, I will follow other tributes later on.****If you want me to.**** After the reaping chapters I will write a chapter that gives a quick synopsis of the other tributes. I have some ideas for how to make this different than some of the others Hunger Games fanfictions. I hope that**** they are good. Please review.**


	2. What Goes Up You Know the Rest

**Alright here's the next chapter. This is Roxanne Chamber. From District 8**, **in case you have forgotten. Roxanne has an interesting past. This chapter doesn't reveal a lot about it, but when it is all the little details will fall into place. Hope you all enjoy.**

**Chapter Two**

**What Goes Up... You Know the Rest  
><strong>

**Roxanne Chamber POV**

"_Reaping Day, it's a death sentence dressed up as a holiday." _That's what one of my teammates said once, and he was right. We get out of school and work and dress up all nice and neat just so we can be sent to the slaughter. Stupid Capitol, I would love to see how entertaining they thought it was if it were their own kids dying on television.

I picked up another baseball from the bucket I had beside me. I tossed it up in the air and caught it. It took me only a second to focus in my target, an old beat up mattress from the junk yard with a target painted on it. The ball rocketed out of my hand. It hit the worn bedding leaving an indent and sending up a cloud of dust.

I had been doing this since early this morning. There were two reasons for me pitching: one it calms me, two after the reaping my team has a game to celebrate or commemorate.

I went for another baseball when I heard my name called. "Yeah," I yelled back.

"Sweetie," it was my mother, "come on in you need to get ready."

"Okay."

I collected the baseballs, one at a time. With them all back in the bucket I trudged back my house. I set them just inside the kitchen.

Jessie, my mom, stood at the entrance to living room with her hands on her hips. "Could you have taken longer?"

I stood there for a few seconds pretending to ponder the thought.

"Just go upstairs and take a bath," she snapped.

I was heading upstairs when I heard her, "Your reaping day dress will be on your bed when you're finish."

I stopped halfway up the stairs. "Dress? Dress? I thought we talked about it last year. I know you are going to make me dress like a girl, but anything but a dress," I reminded her. "I will wear a skirt."

"That was last year. Besides, you look so pretty in a dress."

I sigh as I continued up the stairs. I didn't feel like arguing. "It isn't too girly is it?" I asked.

"I don't think so," she replied.

That wasn't too reassuring. We had two totally different views of girly. If there were floral patterns or frills I would give it away as soon as I could.

The bath was already ready. I submersed myself in the warm relaxing water. It felt exceptionally nice on my shoulder. I think I over did it while practicing. My shoulder started to get sore the moment I was called in. I moved it a little as I soaked.

"_Hope this doesn't mess up my game," _I thought.

Once I was done I scurried to my room. I pushed the door close behind me with my foot. I grabbed a comb and ran it through my short red tomboyish hair. I then eyed the vile thing that was on my bed. It didn't take me too long to slip into the dress. I felt like a clown.

I decided to see how bad I looked in it. I walked back to the bathroom, and stood across from the mirror to examine myself. It wasn't horrible. It was a deep purple colored with light blue trim at the bottom. Personally it was shorter than I would have usually liked, just barely reaching my knees, where it flared out. It looked good how it was, and not too bad on me.

The more I looked I couldn't shake the feeling I had seen this dress before. I'm not sure where. I don't go dress shopping. The only time I'm ever around dresses is when… Then it hits me.

"Mom!" I yelled.

I stormed out my room and down the stairs. We met at the foot of the staircase. I wouldn't say I was furious or even steaming, but I was pissed.

"I made this dress for Mrs. Help's daughter," I snapped.

Yes, I make dresses. It is one of the few, very few, girly things I do. It was something me and my grandmother did together before she passed away. I sometimes made dresses for the district's girls for some money.

"It was never attended for Jocelyn," she explained. "She did pay for it, but I was the one that gave her the money to pay for it. I was also the one told her the description."

I stood there for a second trying to figure out why she went through all that trouble.

As if she read my mind she continued, "I knew you wouldn't make a dress for yourself, and if you did you would have sabotaged it." She did have a point. "It's really important that you look nice for today."

"Why? What for? For the reaping, the capitol?" I threw my hands over my face. "You didn't, did you? You set me up on another blind date." I didn't give her time to respond. "Mom, I don't want a boyfriend."

I started to storm up the stairs when she called after me, "Roxanne, your dad is coming home."

I stopped dead in my tracks. "D…Dad?" My voice caught in my throat for a second. "Daddy is really coming home?"

"Yes," I could hear the emotion building up in her voice, "he told me the last time I went to visit."

I can feel tears well up in my eyes. "But I thought he wouldn't get his first parole hearing for another four years."

"He's not sure how it happened, but it got moved up. And, well now he's getting out, today.

"I think you should look your best."

I wiped away the tears that started to run down my cheek. Without turning around I added, "I wish you told me. I would have made a nicer dress."

"You look beautiful."

I turned around and gave a halfhearted eye roll. "Yeah, right." I wiped away more tears. I couldn't make them stop.

At that point my obnoxious brother, Caleb, burst through the door. He had been out doing who knows what. From the smell I guessed drinking, probably to celebrate that he wasn't in the reaping this year.

"Hiya," he greeted rubbing his eyes. "Why are you crying Rox?"

"I'm not," I shot back. He covered his ears in pain. He was definitely hung over. "Dad's getting out today."

"Quit yelling," he groaned. "Wait, what? Dad is coming home?"

"Yes you idiot," I chuckled. My brother was always funnier/ oblivious when he was drunk or hung over.

"Now hurry up and get dressed," our mother ordered, "and when we get back your father and I are going to have a long talk about your drinking."

"I wasn't drinking," he defended.

"Dude, the only way you it could be more obvious is if you walked in with a beer bottle," I explained.

He stumbled up the stairs drunk and defeated. After a few minutes, and a few smashing sounds, later he came back down. I fell to the ground laughing and Mom shook her head disappointedly.

"What?" he asked clearly confused.

"Your shirt is… it's on backwards," I told him between fits of laughter. To make it worse it was a button up shirt.

"I… I knew that," he said after he figured it out. "It's a new fashion statement."

It had been turning out to be the best day ever.

After he got everything straightened, we headed for the prison. Caleb walked the whole way squinting against the shining sun. I did feel bad for him. I knew what sort of pain he was in.

Mom made sure we left early because the prison is on the opposite direction from the town square. Still we had to hurry. It wasn't a secret that my father was in prison, so people looked at us like we were dirty. I wasn't ashamed or embarrassed in the slightest.

The jail was set on the outskirts of the district, with no other buildings around it. We waited outside the large solid gates. Time seemed to creep by, but it didn't dampen my spirits. Mom was worried though. She checked her watch every so often.

"I'm going to go check see what the holdup is."

Just as she started the doors began to move.

"Dad!" I yelled.

I ran toward him with arms open. I tripped over the heels or pumps or whatever you call them, but Dad was there to catch me.

"Careful," he told me.

"Sorry got too excited."

"Well, you seem to be okay, little Roxy."

He helped me back to my feet. "Now, don't you look pretty?"

"Thanks Dad," I said with a sarcastic eye roll. I did like the compliment. It's just a bit weird for me to be called pretty.

"Learn how to take a compliment, without the eye roll," he instructed, ruffling my hair.

At that point Caleb ran over and knocked us both to the ground.

"Get off me you drunken idiot," I complained. I didn't mean for the 'drunken' to slip out.

Dad grabbed him by the hair and asked sternly, "You've been drinking?"

"Yeah," he responded sheepishly.

"We'll talk about it later."

"Yes sir."

"Guys we have to get to the reaping. We don't have a lot time left," she informed us.

We unscrambled from each other and started to the square. People avoided us all together as we headed for the square. They saw him for what the peacekeepers made him, a criminal. Not for what he was, a hero.

That day couldn't have gotten better. My father's out of jail, my brother will actually be funny for at least another half an hour, my team was going to cream the other team. What in the world could have gone wrong?

"And your female tribute is Roxanne Heart."

There was that. I was still on my emotional high that it took me a few moments to realize that my whole world had crashed around me.

It wasn't fair. It just wasn't. My life had just got better, and then I was put on death sentence.

I fought the tears as I walked up to the stage. I wasn't going to cry. Only girls cry.

I could see my dad. He looked like he was going to kill someone. The only thing that I think kept him was my mom's grip on his wrist. He had his teeth bared and stared at the pink cotton candy looking escort. Personally I would have loved to see him rip into her if it wasn't for the fact he would be killed on the spot and I would still be sent to be killed. She was the only the second person that I thought deserved to die, but she wouldn't be the last.

I was shortly joined by a 13 year old boy named, Donald Donald. It started to rain as we shook hands.

**Alright that's all for now. Just two more tributes. Hope you all have enjoyed it thus far. I've tried my best to give each of the character's a unique voice from one another. I think I did a good job, but if you think otherwise just tell me and I'll try ti fix that. Also if there is something that I can do to make the story more interesting or better just tell. Either by PM or in your reviews. So until next time.**


	3. You Don't Know Me

**I am sooo sorry that I haven't updated in forever. I had a lot of problems. Number one is that I lost my flash drive forever. After I found it, I had the world's largest writer's block. Also I decided to totally rewrite this chapter. Hopefully I will do better in the future about updating. So please read, enjoy, and review.**

**Alastair Holiday POV**

No one was in the house, and that's exactly how I like it. I didn't live there. I wasn't sure who did. All I knew is that they had some money, and I wanted it.

I don't understand why anyone would leave at such an hour in the morning, 4 a.m. to be more accurate. They didn't have to milk cows or anything like that. Not like the rest of District 10. Whatever possessed them to leave was a mystery to me, at the time, though I didn't care.

The darkness helped made me feel stealthier than my form would usually allowed me to be. I crept slowly across the hardwood floor. Even though I watched everyone leave, I would rather be safe than accidently wake someone I didn't account for.

I ran into the first bit of valuables of the night, the silverware drawer. I pulled out the pillowcase that I had stuffed in my pocket, and opened it with a simple flick of my wrist. Again I tried to be stealthy by stuffing handfuls of the expensive looking utensils into the case. It didn't take me too long to notice that not all of them had any actual value, just made out of some cheap metal.

"_Maybe not as rich as I thought."_ I let out a dissatisfied sigh.

I started to pick through the silverware more selectively. When I was done there it still had half of its contents.

"_Hopefully they are less stingy with the rest of their stuff,"_ I thought, trying to be optimistic.

I went to the living room next. Most of the objects were too big and or breakable for me to easily negotiate out of there, such as the T.V. or the lamps though they did look nice. The few things that were worth taking, that I could easily, were a fancy looking ashtray, a few books spread out across the coffee table, and some picture frames.

The picture frames, I didn't steal them for myself. They would just make a quick gift for my family, for birthdays and Christmas. They are seemingly sentimental without really being.

The books though they aren't worth that much, especially in a place like District 10. Anytime I came across a book that I haven't already stolen I added it to my growing collection. It is my one true weakness.

After I collected the valuables in there, my gut sent me an urgent signal. It really didn't like this. Something was seriously wrong. I negotiated with myself, _"Just one more room and then I would go_._"_

I then found myself in a bedroom. That was where all the good stuff was: silk sheets, a small jewelry box, some cash in a drawer, some fancy looking clothes, more picture frames (again presents), and more books. I stuffed all that could fit into my pillow case. I didn't use the others for it's a rule of mine; use only one bag. So that way I wouldn't get too greedy.

My gut screamed at me this time that something was wrong and I needed to the fuck out. Then it hit me. This bedroom was located in the middle. It had only one way in or out. All the good stuff was in there. This was a set up.

I went for the door when I heard footsteps, the heavy footstep of peacekeeper's boots. There was nowhere to hide there, so I ran to the hall.

They were in the living room, which happened to be the room on the other end of the hall. I thought frantically for how to get out of this.

They started down the hall. They walked right past me, well under me. Thank goodness for high ceilings I had my hands and feet pressed against the walls of the hallway. My arms and legs shook as I waited for them to pass. Once they were gone I lowered myself back to the floor.

I crept toward the living room while I kept an eye on the bedroom. From the sound, they were tearing apart the room looking for me. Once in the living room I broke for the closest door. There weren't any peacekeepers right outside the house, so I started for my hideout.

My hideout was located in an abandon barn on the outskirt of the district. I know it's a bit cliché. Apparently, though, clichés work for no one had ever bothered to look for me here.

I pushed the large wooden door open and was greeted by my mountain of treasures. I turned on the generator, stolen. Slowly the lights flickered on. The light bounced off marvelously. I added my new treasures to pile before closing the door.

I had been stealing for about three years. I tried to steal every night. If I sold everything I had then I would be richer than some of the people in the Capitol. It wasn't that I needed to steal to survive. I stole for the pleasure of it. There is a rush about taking things that aren't yours.

After taking in the sight of my years of work I decided to get out of my disguise. I took off the black messy wig, and revealed my short neat blonde hair. Next I pulled the pillow out from under my shirt. As I headed to where I stored them, I peeled off the fake scars and nose. I had to be careful not to damage them.

At the back of the barn was a stand surrounded by mannequin heads with different wigs, fake beards, and mustaches pinned to them. I placed the wig back on an empty one and stuck a pin roughly into it. I discarded the scars and nose on the stand with the others. The pillow was tossed onto the chair in front of the stand. I changed out of the rags I was wearing and back into my regular clothes and snuck back home.

I had just lied down on my bed when my father yells. I imagined his face turning bright red about that time. By now the peacekeepers were reporting to him that I got away, yet again.

My father was the head peacekeeper for our district. Though at the rate I was stealing I'm not sure for how much longer. It was rumor that he was going to be demoted and/or stationed somewhere else.

Personally I didn't care. I wanted to watch him suffer. It's not that I hated him. To hate someone you would first have to have feelings for them. To me he was just there like one of the farm animals here. He was just there, and if I was bored I'd cause a little turmoil in their lives. Matter of fact I felt like that for the majority of people.

The only exception to this was my, I use the term loosely, friend, Vincent. He is more like a dog. He would do as I told him no matter what, and no matter how bad I treated him he would always come back.

I fell asleep to the sound of my father yelling. The next morning I woke up to more yelling. This time it was directed at me. To get my sorry behind out of bed I kicked off the covers and rushed to the door.

"Good lord, I don't have school today leave me be," I yelled back.

"Do you remember why you don't have school?" he bellowed back.

I took a moment to think. "Oh yeah, reaping," I said nonchalantly. "I'll be down in a second."

The rest of the day was a haze until Vincent found me before the reaping.

"Hey man, are ya nervous?" he rushed. That was one of the things about him. It was like he spoke two words at a time.

I shrugged. "No, why should I?"

"Man you are way too relaxed. I mean this is the **reaping**," he explained. One of us could be sent to the Games, and then die."

"The odds of me dying are so low that it would be a waste for me to worry. Even if I was to be picked I would win."

"Okay dude that is pure cockiness. Oh it's starting."

I stood there bored out of my mind. At the end of the mayor's speech I noticed an eyelash in my eye. I continued to pick at it as the ceremony continued. Again my gut started to tell me something was wrong, but at this point my eyelash was much more annoying than my gut. I finally got out. At this point everyone was staring at me.

"What?" I asked casually.

"You were reaped dude," Vincent informed me.

"Oh."

I stepped out of the crowd and headed straight for the stage. I noticed some people on the other side of the fence were crying. I knew that none of those tears were for me. I didn't even have to turn around to know that my father's eyes were empty of such sympathy.

As I ascended the stairs I felt like a wall was torn down in my brain. I felt free. I wasn't sure what it was or why at the time. All I knew was that it felt good.

On stage, the other tribute and I were told to shake hands. She had a brave face on, but I could feel her shaking. I squeezed her hand harder than I should, a lot harder.

**That's it for now. The next chapter should be up tomorrow, at the latest Thursday. Then from then on I will hopefully be updating once a week. I hope you guys like it so far. Till next time.**


	4. What's Worth Dying For

**The universe hates me. My internet died, and when it came back online my family kept hogging the computer. I am seriously trying to update regularly but i keep hitting speed bumps. Well here is the final reaping. From here on I am going to the goodbyes, train ride, and so on and so forth. I wish you guys would review some more. Your reviews don't have to be praises. If you see something wrong tell me. I am trying to become a better writer. **

**Dante Fletcher POV**

"Come on boy fight smarter not harder," barked Gerald, one of the champions from District 11.

He swung his walking stick at me again. I raised his arms to block the blow. As the sturdy stick met my battered arms Gerald stomped down on my foot and elbowed me in my already bruised stomach. I doubled over in pain, gasping for air, but still kept my arms up in front of my face. The old man loomed over me ready to deliver the final blow. I saw through my sweat drenched black hair him raised the stick over his head and started to bring it down.

"_Now,"_ I screamed in my head.

I reached out with my left hand, grabbed the stick, and forced it to the right. Then stood up and crashed the top of my head into the old man's chin. As my teacher stumbled backwards I twisted the stick out of his hand. I delivered a right cross to Gerald's chest knocking him to his back. Gerald tried to get back to his feet when I put his foot on his chest. I pointed the stick toward his throat. The left corner of my mouth twisted upward into a smug smile.

The old man returned the smug look. He threw a handful of dirt into my eyes, swatted the "sword" to one side, grabbed my foot, and pushed up. I fell backwards, rolled back over my shoulder, and landed on my feet. I held the weapon ready to strike as wiped the dirt from my eyes.

When I could see it was too late, Gerald had come from side and tackled me to the ground. The force of the impact sent the stick out of reach. Gerald sat on my chest of him his hands around my throat. I reached up and buried my thumb into his eye.

Gerald instinctively reached up to his eye. I squirmed so Gerald was now on my waist. I bumped with my hips, making him fall forward Gerald smacked his hands on the ground to stop himself. As soon as they made contact I wrapped my right arm and leg around Gerald's and put my left hand in his armpit. Pushing with my left arm and I forced Gerald to the right. The two of us rolled over. I jumped to my feet and grabbed the stick.

Whipping around I saw Gerald, releasing a battle cry, charging at him like a bull, his red eye adding to the bull-likeness. I easily sidestepped him, and smashed the walking stick into the owners head. Gerald hit the ground like a load of bricks. After the adrenaline had passed I realized that the end of the stick was missing and that it didn't look like Gerald was getting up.

"Oh shit!" I cried. "Gerald. Gerald man, are you alright."

He still didn't move.

Running my hands through my hair, I paced back and forth. _"I killed a victor. I'm not even going to make it to the Reaping let alone through the Games." _I stared at Gerald's still motionless body, and then I thought to check if he was dead. I kicked Gerald's boot, no reaction. I knelt down beside him and shook him, still nothing. I looked up toward the sky, hoping for a miracle. I slowly inched two fingers to his throat, to see if there was a pulse.

"GAHAHAHAHAHAH!" Gerald yelled.

I jumped away and screamed. The old man rolled back and forth laughing, though it was more of a wheezy squeaking than a laugh. I couldn't help but to laugh too, even though I was mad at him. Now I looked back toward the sky for another miracle, this time though in the form of a lightning bolt. Gerald laughter slowly died down, and he wiped a tear from his eye.

"Oh ho ho ho. Good job boy," he commented. He grabbed the back of his head, and pulled it back after a wince of pain. "Good blow. Think I'll be keeping this knot for a while. Well at least you didn't spilt my head open," he added happily after examining his hand.

"Sorry. I'm also sorry that I broke another one of your walking sticks," showing him the broken piece of wood.

"It's fine. I've got plenty of others," he assured. "Just throw it with the rest. Ouch."

I did as I was told. The walking stick landed on the edge of a decent size pile of other sticks next to a tree with only broken nubs of branches left on it.

"Sort of feel sorry for the tree," I said.

"Ah, don't. If you win then the branches were used for a good reason, but if you lose I always hated that tree." He let out loud spontaneous bout of wheezy laughter.

"You did well," getting serious. "I like you strategy; let me land enough blows 'til I got cocky then surprise attack," he praised. "Even when I continued to attack you improvised, fought dirty, and fought smartly.

"There was only one thing you did wrong." I turned back toward him focusing on the next words he was going to say, for in the Games one mistake can be your last. "You checked to see if I was dead. You don't check if your opponent is dead you make sure they are dead. If you are unsure bash their head in."

I took a moment to repeat it over and over in my head, _"Don't check if your opponent is dead make sure they are dead." _

"Okay boy I would suggest that you go in home and get ready for the Reaping."

"You sure you don't need any help?" I asked.

"I'm fine. Just hurry home."

I gave him a quick nod then slipped out my usual way, through hedges that helped separate the rest of the district from Victor's Village. On the other side was an alley between the bank and a bakery. I slipped out of there, and acted as if I hadn't had my ass handed to me by a nearly fifty year old man, which is hard whenever you had.

People stared at me as walked down the street covered in bruises, and a busted lip. I just looked back at them like they were the crazy ones. I was afraid whenever I crossed paths with a peacekeeper, but he didn't seem to care.

When I got home, which was on the other end, I rushed to the back took off my shirt and filled a bucket with water from the large barrel we used to collect rain water. I took a deep breath and poured the water over me. Though it doesn't really get cold in District 11, there was a strong breeze that sent a shiver through me.

I grabbed a towel that I hung near the back door and dried off. I kept my hair wet so I could slick it back like I like it. I crept through my house to my room, so I didn't wake Mom. Once in my room I threw on my Reaping clothes for the last couple of years, a blue polo and khakis. The clothes were a bit small and too snug across the chest and other areas. Silently I went down the hall to the bathroom, combed my hair back.

I went to check on my sister, Olivia. She turned twelve a few weeks ago. I have been praying since I was twelve that she would never be reaped. Now that was an actual possibility I pray that my prayers were heard.

I found her in her room, in a yellow sun dress. She was busy trying to brush the knots out of her hair. She saw me in the handheld mirror she had and turned around. With a look of disgust she turned her back toward me.

"Hey, you want me to help?" I offered.

"No, you'll just rip out the knots out. Just go get the twins ready."

She had been distant ever since she figured out that I was going to volunteer. She boarder lined on the edge of hatred sometimes. I understood why. I just wished she could see I was doing this for the family.

"Alright," I sighed.

I found my little twin brother and sister, eight years old, asleep. I genteelly woke them up and told them to get ready.

It was twenty minutes till one when my siblings sat down at the table. I had already made lunch for them, peanut butter and banana sandwiches. I ate mine as I checked the food make sure that there would be enough till I got back. There was just less than a month's worth of food, over a month if they ration it right. Games rarely ever reach three weeks let alone a month, so there wasn't a doubt in my mind that they would be fine.

"Honey," I heard behind me.

It was my mother, Abigail. She was wearing a white blouse and black skirt. Her hair was up in a ponytail. She had been bed stricken, off and on, for over a year and a half. It was good to see her up. Though it wasn't what I wanted, not today.

"Mom, you shouldn't be up," I told her.

She dismissed it with a wave of her hand. "It will do me some good to get up and move around. Besides I want to be there for you and Olivia."

I just faked a smile.

"What happened to you?" she asked, noticing the bruises.

"Um, I got into a fight with some boys from the orchard," I lied. "Nothing for you to worry about."

She walked over to me for a closer examination. She put her hands on either side of my face. "You seem alright," she commented. "Just glad it's just bruises and nothing worse. I hate to see my baby in pain."

Those words stabbed me in the heart like a knife. _"Does she know? Is she trying to guilt me into not doing it?"_ I thought

After we finished eating we headed for town square. We had to fight our way through the crowds to get to the Reaping. I constantly checked over my shoulder to make sure Mother was okay. When we got to the fenced in area that the Reaping were held Mother gave my sister and me a hug.

Olivia stormed off as soon as she could. I turned and started for the gate when I saw Cassidy, my best friend. She wore a simple strapless pink dress. She flashed a small smile at me.

"You look a little goofy," she teased tugging the sleeve of my polo.

I just laughed it off.

She started to play with her hair nervously. I was about to ask her what was wrong, when she got on her toes and gave me a deep kiss. At first I was a bit surprised but gave into it. I tried to make it last as long as I could but she pulled away.

Still dazed from the kiss I asked, "What was that for?"

"Luck, for when you are in the Game," her voice cracked a little. She was one of the few people that knew of my plans. "I want you to make it through."

I tucked a lock of her brown hair behind her ear. "I promise you I will be back."

A peacekeeper barked at us to hurry it up. She went extremely red in the face and hurried off. I took a second to comprehend what had just happened, before heading for the sixteen year old section.

Gerald Keep, Iris Maelstrom, the mayor, Kursk Wreath, and District 11's escort, Bella Blood, were on the stage. The clock struck two and the mayor, almost robotically, got up and crossed to the podium.

**Bella Blood POV**

I hated being District 11's escort. These people had a way of making me feel sick. It was either the dumb blank looks on their faces or the look of hunger. The district was so humid too; I sweat so much that my makeup, silver this year, might run. Thankfully for as long as I've been doing this it hasn't

I've been doing this for seven years, and not a single victor while I was here. I'm never going to get out of this forsaken place.

"_Well it's better than being escort to District 12," _I told myself. _"No one wants that job."_

The stick of a man that was the mayor finally finished with his speech. I gave myself a good mental shake before I approached the podium. I gave the little brats a large toothy smile. I had my teeth died a pale red, to go with my name.

"Hello District 11," I greeted opening my arms in large and animated fashion. "Happy Hunger Games," I say with forced enthusiasm. "May the odds be ever in your favor?"

There was some slow and sporadic clapping from the crowd outside the fence. I've been around long enough to realize that it was a greater sign of disrespect than if they sat there quietly. I just pat my midnight blue hair as if I'm fixing it, instead of hiding my anger.

"Now let's see who will be the lucky two this year." My own enthusiasm is making me nauseas. "We'll begin with the ladies." I use my long nails to stir the names and then pluck one of the slips out. "And the lucky lady is… Helen Reed."

A girl from the seventeen year old section stepped out. She tripped on the stairs up to the stage. She had light brown curly hair and hazel eyes. She appeared a bit on the small side. There was nothing really special about her; she had that same stupid hungry look like everyone. She probably wouldn't get a lot of sponsors, unless she had the world's best sob story.

"Now for the gentlemen," I announced. I repeated the same thing I did for the girl. "The lucky gentleman is…Clause Wreath."

A large exceptionally dumb looking eighteen year old boy walked onto the stage. The stairs sagged under his weight. This is the first non-hungry person from District 11 I've ever seen. Though being the son of the mayor, he had to have had more accesses to food than then the rest here. This guy couldn't win, for lack of brains to survive, but if he had some blood thirst he would put on a good show.

I knew that it was pointless but I asked, "Are there any brave volunteers to take the place of one of these two?" I was about to announce that they were going to this year's tribute, when the unexpected happen.

"I volunteer!"

Everyone within earshot started to look for who said it. The camera operator, snapped out of his half sleep state, moved the camera frantically looking for the source of the voice. A sixteen year old boy, whose clothes were too small for him, stepped up to the stage. I and everyone around focused in on the lone boy.

An actual smile crossed my face. This one little act had made this the most interesting Reaping I've ever been to. Not to mention that this one actually looked like a victor. His body was covered in muscle. He could probably hold his own against most any other tribute. The bruises, scars, busted lip, and his crooked nose, probably had been broken, showed that he wasn't afraid to fight. This is what a tribute should be like.

"Splendid." I gave the first boy a dismissive wave of my hand. "And what is your name you brave boy?" I asked brightly.

Mocking me he replied, "Dante Fletcher."

He climbed the stairs giving everyone on stage a small smile. His golden eyes had a brightness to them that made me feel uneasy. I couldn't explain it.

Shaking the feeling I declare "These are your 99th Hunger Games tribute!"

No clapping this time.

**Okay that's it for the reapings. I think I am going to change the POV. I was never good at first person. So from now on it is going to be third person. Well hope you guys and gals like the story so far. Until next time, farewell.**


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